


Anything More

by BlueJayCalling



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Poetry, Betaed, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I'm Bad At Summaries, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJayCalling/pseuds/BlueJayCalling
Summary: Geralt’s curiosity gets the best of him and he absolutely needs to know what his bard is always writing so passionately about. When he finally gets his hands on Jaskier's notebook, he discovers that the poet’s greatest muse is none other than the White Wolf himself.***Written for BIKM Bingo #2. Prompt: PaperPaper, verbArchaic.to write or set down on paper.to describe in writing.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Anything More

Geralt found it unnerving, at least at first, the way Jaskier would suddenly take out his notebook and start jotting things down. Even when it seemed most appropriate, like at the end of an eventful day or on the rare occasion that the Witcher would open up and share stories about his most harrowing contracts, there was something about the bard’s behavior while he was writing that made Geralt feel… a sort of way. And he wasn’t sure exactly why.

It might have been the way he stuck out his tongue ever so slightly, or how his eyes, such a stunning blue, would grow wide as they glanced up from the pages. Or maybe his eye contact was just a bit too intense. But after a while, Geralt rarely thought much of it. It was just Jaskier being Jaskier, and it didn’t mean anything more than that.

Geralt noticed, at least at first, when the bard’s bursts of inspiration became more frequent. Sometimes, on a peaceful night, the blessed silence would be broken by a flurry of activity as Jaskier reached into his pack for his notebook and began to write as if his life depended on it. Geralt reasoned that it did, what with him being a bard and all. 

The Witcher would stay quiet and pretend he wasn’t aware that the poet was glancing up at him from across the campfire, his eyes too wide and too blue and too intense, his gaze lingering on him for a little too long. He told himself he didn’t think anything of the way the tip of the balladeer’s tongue would dart out from his mouth as he returned his attention to whatever it was he was writing. It was just Jaskier being Jaskier, and it didn’t mean anything more than that.

It took a while - years, in fact - before Geralt’s curiosity got the best of him and he absolutely needed to know what the bard was writing so passionately about. The opportunity to find out presented itself one evening when Jaskier briefly stepped away from their camp, leaving his notebook out and unattended. 

Geralt was shocked, at least at first, when he opened it and discovered that the writer’s greatest muse was none other than the White Wolf himself.

_“I tried telling him he’d get a warmer reception from the townsfolk if he’d stop scowling all the time. He just scowled at me. I don’t think he was listening,”_ one line read. 

And another: _“He really doesn’t know how magnificent he is. And he calls_ _me_ _stupid.”_

And on another page: _“I know he thinks he’s not much different from the monsters he hunts, but he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Either he’s wrong or I am, and I’m never wrong when it comes to judging beauty.”_

So far, Geralt chalked it up to Jaskier being Jaskier, and it didn’t mean anything more than that. 

And then he kept reading. 

_“Who could love a monster_

_With skin as pale as death_

_And eyes that glow like molten amber?_

_What kind of fool would try_

_To pursue him across the Continent_

_Until they draw their final breath?_

_What kind of fool would dare love him?_

_What kind of fool am I?”_

The poem made Geralt feel… a sort of way, one that he had denied for far too long. It was impossible to ignore now that he knew his bard felt the same.

When Jaskier came back to their camp, he didn’t notice, at least not at first, that Geralt was in possession of his notebook. It wasn’t until the Witcher recited, out of nowhere, “Who could love a monster...” that the bard looked over with horror in eyes and saw it sitting open in Geralt’s lap. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean for you to read that,” the poet stuttered, his face turning as red as the sunset. 

“Were you going to make this into a song?” Geralt asked.

“No, of course not,” Jaskier answered defensively. “It’s just… Look, Geralt, sometimes poetry is just poetry, and it doesn’t mean anything.”

Geralt let out a low growl as he closed the notebook, then stood up to walk over to the flustered bard who stared at him as he approached, piercing blue eyes wide with fear. The Witcher stooped to gently put the poet’s book back down on top of his other things before he came face to face with Jaskier. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, bringing up his hand. Jaskier flinched, expecting to be slapped, but was shocked to instead find a large, calloused hand cupping his face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it.”

“I…” For once, the bard was at a loss for words. “Do you _want_ me to mean it?” 

Geralt responded with a slight nod. 

“Then, in that case, I do.”

“You really are a fool. To _love_ … me,” Geralt said, struggling to use the word ‘love’ in a sentence talking about himself. He started to pull his hand away, but Jaskier caught hold of it.

“Perhaps. But I’d be a bigger fool if I didn't,” the bard said, and pressed his lips against Geralt’s knuckles. “So now that you know how I feel, does it mean anything to you?”

Geralt answered with his actions before his words, embracing Jaskier and holding him close. “It means everything to me.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I wrote bad poetry for this XD
> 
> This fic was written for BIKM Bingo, a fun writing event held monthly by the "There's a BARD Loose in KAER MORHEN" Discord server. It was a ton of fun to do! If you are 18+, come join us pervy Witcher-loving degenerates at: https://discord.gg/8EgF2kS3Tb
> 
> I also highly recommend you come hang out with me and my friends at The Nest of Witchers: https://discord.gg/gSZuBQXhUq
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


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